


Colors

by Kitsoa



Category: BIRDMEN - 田辺イエロウ | Tanabe Yellow
Genre: Flock Shenanigans, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Ridiculous Scenarios
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 22:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7732006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsoa/pseuds/Kitsoa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Umino brings a ton of silly string to a Bird Club meeting. Chaos ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colors

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another piece for my writing prompt challenge. Tried having a little fun with this one!

“Okay… but Silly String?”

 Sagisawa and Kamoda turned to the blue accented Birdman who shook the metal can vigorously. Umino proceeded to fill the roof with the fizzy sound of the airtight container exhaling it’s stringy foam substance.

 She made a squiggly tower of blue foam on her clawed hand. Eishi maintained his judgmental expression, mentally evaluating the purpose of such an element to their club meeting.

 “Yes.” The girl sharply affirmed, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “We were brainstorming activities yesterday and well… I had an epiphany.”

Sagisawa picked up the knapsack to her side, the contents made a clattering noise as both he and Kamoda peered inside. “How many did you buy?”

“Oh, 20 cans. The club credit card’s in the bag.”

“Twenty? Why?” Eishi was still stumped.

 Sagisawa only raised his eyes in surprise and laughed. “If my dad asks I’ll tell him it was a donation to the theater club.” Meanwhile Kamoda jumped at the party toys before them.

 “Wow! Does that mean we each get four?”

 “Yep! We each get our own color-- based on our code names! Cool, right?” Umino gave a corny thumbs up.

 “Hmm… red, green, blue… what about white and black?” There was a self pitying pout.

 “There’s literally no such things as black and white silly string. So I settled for yellow and purple!”

 Sagisawa didn’t seem very enthused as he picked out one of his cans from the bag. “Yellow…”

 “Is someone going to explain the purpose of the silly string?!” Eishi threw his arms down dramatically.

 Umino plucked a purple can from the bag and tossed it to the high strung birdman who caught it with a surprised fumble.

 “That’s easy.” She chirped. Behind her, Sagisawa was distributing the green cans to Kamoda. “We play ‘till 3am or empty. Helmets up-- for eye safety. No flying by the ocean or through any clouds-- that’s cheating. General public flying rules apply...and um…”

 How had he _not_ noticed her vigorously shaking a can?

 “Cleanest birdman wins!”

 _Eye safety my ass_. A sudden onslaught of blue party string flew into his face. The black accented birdman recoiled back with a sealed tight mouth and eyes shut as the substance drew a line. Everyone howled with laughter (save the ever silent Takayama of course). There was the distinct sound of wings unfurling in the midst of the cackles.

 “Ahck! Umi-” he swiped his hand down his face as she, Kamoda, and Sagisawa took to air. “What the heck!?” Eishi searched the air with his dignity dripping off his red face like the blue string when he locked onto the hovering girl. The blue birdman struck a cutesy pose with her spray can of colored foam before Kamoda suddenly swooped into her airspace with a hissing splash of green. She squealed and the blue-green-white faction scattered.  

 “GAH! THIS IS POINTLESS!!”

 Movement in his lower vision drew him to Takayama, who was rooting through the knapsack, inspecting a red can with an almost child-like innocence. He plucked off the cap.

 “You are not getting into this nonsense too.” Eishi marched toward the bag, completely done with the ridiculous substance when Takayama wordlessly aimed the nozzle in his face and pressed.

 “GAHHH! GOD FREAKIN’-- ** _Wasn’t there a helmet rule!_** ”

 Takayama took to the skies and waited. Eishi only had to crane his neck up for a moment before he threw himself into the bag and attached the four cans to his hip with a well intentioned wing mass adjustment.

 He growled, embarrassment, a raging fire. He poised himself for take off, the blades of his wings sprawled wide to inspire a compensating ferociousness.  

 “You’re seeing purple tonight Takayama!”

 He closed the distance, guns blazing.

* * *

 

The sharp snap of wings accompanied Kamoda’s attacking battle cry, his victim, let gravity spare him from an onslaught of green. Sagisawa laughed with his underhanded swoop, drawing a hasty line of yellow along the bald birdman’s leg as a counter.

 “Don’t get too cocky!”

 Beneath Sagisawa was a cackling Umino who had the finesse to draw and ‘X’ on his left wing. He flapped frantically with a surprised yelp while Kamoda took the opportunity to head-shot him with a long stream of string along his visor. From the sound behind him, Umino was decorating his back as well.

 “Not fair!!”

 The Bird-Club president recoiled with a blind spin of hissing can. The squealing broke the trio into hysterics as they mutually covered each other in the foam.

* * *

 

 It was like one of those high speed chases in the movies. Takayama was faster, yes, but Eishi was well on his heels.

  _You can’t run forever!_

 Adrenaline buzzed through Eishi, translating into eager wing flaps. The competition fueled his fire, with indignation his perpetual cover. Yet his instinctual grin and sparkling eyes betrayed him as he pursued through the rushing wind, the city lights a kaleidoscope colors.

 That’s when Takayama banked suddenly, the city shadows swallowing his form whole. Eishi followed suit, but halted at his sudden vanishing act. The adrenaline buzzed and the Bellwether whipped his head in a paranoid search.

  **This is like that game of tag**.

 Eishi shivered at Takayama’s reverberating voice. He rarely spoke without prompting. His presence was so unsettlingly clear it seemed to transcend touch-- prickling along his neck, prodding his very thoughts. It was very much like that night when they were slowly discovering their limits and learning of the Birdman Network. Eishi shook the chill and huffed a laugh.

 “Having fun, are you?”

 He had sensed the direction of his voice like a pulsating wave and in turn flexed the blades on his wings like sly antennas. He wasn’t so helpless now as to be stranded in the sky. It seemed more like a guess, but Eishi locked onto the general source.

  **Yes I am.**

 If he had to guess, Eishi would say Takayama was audibly _grinning_.

 Before Eishi could assert his confidence in his location, the hawk slashed his way into view, assaulting him with a merciless brand of red. Coiled to react, Eishi went at him as well, landing a blow of purple string on his torso as his (now properly in place) helmet took the brunt of the color.

 Even through the haze on his visor Eishi saw the gleam of Takayama’s back talons slice through his vision as he passed. He jumped at the opportunity. Literally.

Takayama lurched toward the earth, with a subtle inhale of surprise. On his leg, Eishi clung as a perfect dead weight with a conniving grin on his face. As a result Takayama slowed his dramatic descent with an impressive shift in his wing beats as Eishi wiped the foam off his face and jeered.

 “We’ll _that’s_ got to change.”

 Instead of kicking him off (physical violence was an unspoken taboo that Umino thought, but failed to mention) Takayama caught a racing wind and flew on with his shackle in tow.

 Eishi stumbled at the momentum, but found his constitution in a quick scramble, determined to hold on for dear life. Takayama looked ahead as though nothing was wrong though his posture was clearly imbalanced. The time would never be more ample, so Eishi began draining his silly string supply on his legs.

 _Bet you’d look funny with purple “socks”, eh?_ He directed his thoughts at him as he focused on his handiwork. The entire situation seemed to summon the crafty, grade-school Eishi who got heavy kicks pranking petty bullies. No shame though. He wasn’t bellow immature indulgence, especially at the expense of such a colossal frustration as Takayama.  

 Eishi had to stop when his victim did three consecutive mid-air loops, swinging the dead weight around like a discus. Each spiral was a powerful buck that reminded the stubborn boy of his immense hatred for roller coasters. That only fueled his iron grip. Unsuccessful, Takayama resumed level trajectory, pointed his spray can nozzle at his toes, and showered the parasite.

 “Gah!” The attack was ceaseless and it wasn’t long before Eishi’s helmet and shoulders were coated in silly string. That’s when Takayama’s can fizzled with the majesty of a deflated balloon.

  _Bingo._

 The opportunity was prime. Eishi hurled himself up his leg in that window and reached for Takayama’s arsenal of cans-- talons poised and sharp. The claws connected with a slicing puncture. The pressurized can-- _exploded_.

 Sabotage!

Eishi barked a hearty laugh, half amused at the insane amount of puffy red foam released at the stoic boy’s hip and half impressed with his can slashing skills. Takayama even had the mind to be mildly surprised at the physics lesson, which allowed Eishi the time to swipe his claws back and rake through the other one.

 The flight could no longer be maintained and the two started losing altitude. While Eishi didn’t have much weight to throw around, their mutual status in the air made that a moot factor in a point-blank, all-out, silly-string brawl. They plummeted with a trail of purple and red.

* * *

 

 Sagisawa, Umino, and Kamoda landed on the helicopter pad in wheezing hysterics. The string dangled off them in layers, appearing like multi-colored wigs that danced with an amusing consistency. Even as they lowered their helmets and tossed the string to their shoulders, they found fresh hilarity in their respective appearances. Kamoda was wiping a tear away when he noticed the forms on the roof.

 “How long have you guys been here?” He chuckled, taking in the sight. There lied Eishi, sprawled lazily on the floor, absolutely _drenched_ in a shapeless blend of purple and red. He dramatically consumed a massive surface area with his stretch of wings. He stared back with a flat and barely computing expression that just _dared_ Kamoda to say more.

 “A while.” Takayama responded in turn. He sat behind him, cross-legged and neutral, though just as covered. Frankly, it was hilarious.

 “We... ran out of ammo.” Eishi supplied.  

 “What!?”

 “That was four cans!”

 “We each could barely get through one!”

Eishi awkwardly shrugged in his position on the floor. “What can I say? Ingenuity at it’s finest.” There was a half-assed thumbs up and Eishi looked away in a lethargic mode of disinterest, his words slurring together. “Heh…”

 “We lost Ei-chan.”

 “--I mean we _seriously_ underestimated the carrying capacity of a single can.”

 “We should get cleaned up…”

 “They’ve determined this stuff doesn’t have adverse effects on the environment right?”

 “Who technically won?”

 “Not them, that’s for sure.”

 “I didn’t realize that getting hit by your own color could be a thing!”

 The chatter faded into a background buzz as Eishi zoned out, crashing from the adrenaline rush. The euphoria tickled him into a tired huff of laughter and forced him to stare down Takayama. The gaze was returned. There was a faint smile upon his lips.

 “So…” Eishi trailed. “ _Fun_.” He was both asking a question and answering his own from earlier in the evening.

 Takayama narrowed his eyes slightly as he reaffirmed the curve of his mouth.

 “Yeah… Fun.”

**Author's Note:**

> You know, watching a hydraulic press decimate a can of silly string is an interesting segue during the writing process.


End file.
